Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Pulling my black, skin-tight, off-the-shoulder dress out of my closet, I bit my lip. It was sexy yet elegant, even with the thigh slit, and I loved it. But I’d never worn anything like this before in front of Dane, my boss. It would feel weird.

My gaze flicked to the more formal dress further along the closet rail, but then I remembered what Dane had said to me yesterday before I left o-Verve …

Don’t dress as my PA. Wear what you’d wear to go on a date, not what you’d wear to go to a business dinner.

I looked back at the black dress I was holding and gave it a firm nod. Yes, this would do. I’d throw on a light layer of makeup, add some jewelry, maybe curl the ends of my hair and leave it down. First, I needed to shower.

Blowing out a breath, I put a hand to my fluttering stomach. First dates were always nerve-wracking. But this wasn’t a real date, so I technically had no need to feel nervous. There was no pressure to impress, no worry that this might end up being a waste of my time, no need to stress over whether or not my date would like how I looked. Plus, this wasn’t a stranger. I knew him fairly well.

And yet, I was a bag of nerves.

Well, it wasn’t every day that a girl went on a fake date with her soon-to-be fake husband.

It wouldn’t require any acting skills on my part to seem attracted to him. I just hoped he believed it was an act, because I didn’t want him knowing about the little crush that I’d done an amazing job of hiding so far. And how did I know he was clueless about it? He hadn’t found a new PA. Dane did not keep women around who mooned over him.

Hopefully I’d do just as good a job of hiding it when we were living together. God, was I really going to marry Dane? Was I really going to stand in front of an officiant with him in six weeks’ time? Was I really going to be his fake wife for an entire year?

Yes, apparently, I was.

Twelve months seemed like a long time but, really, a year could fly by. Every time Christmas came around, I often couldn’t believe it was already—

A knock sounded at the door. Figuring it was most likely Ashley, since no one had buzzed me through the intercom, I carefully laid my dress on the bed, padded out of the room, and made my way to the front door. I looked through the peephole out of habit. Tension zipped through me, but I just kept on looking. Because I had to be hallucinating. I had to be. There was no way he’d have found out where I lived and then trudged over here.

Owen knocked again, adjusting his tie with his free hand.

I stepped back and raked my fingers through my hair. I couldn’t imagine what would bring him here, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I could ignore him, of course, but he’d only come back. Owen was tenacious that way.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Owen’s mouth curved. “Hi, Vee.”

“How did you get in the building?” I asked, not feeling all that welcoming.

“I was about to buzz you when someone opened the main door to leave the complex. I slipped inside before it could close.” He took a slow step forward. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Talk?”

“Can I come in?”

“I have somewhere I need to be soon.”

“Ten minutes. Please. Or maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow.”

Meet? Lunch? Fuck that. It seemed simpler to just find out now what had brought him here. I opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Ten minutes.”

He walked in like he owned the place and glanced around. One corner of his mouth canted up. “So, you’re still all about the clutter.”

I gave him a Dane-like “Hmm.” I gestured at the sofa and then sank into the armchair. “What can I do for you?”

He perched himself on the edge of the couch and braced his elbows on his thighs. “I just …” He licked his lips. “It was a shock seeing you again the other day. I had no idea that you worked at o-Verve. I deliberately didn’t look you up over the years. I didn’t want to know if you were married.”

“I heard you are.”

He pulled a face. “Tiffany and I have actually filed for a divorce. People change as they age. We grew into people who still get along well but who are more like housemates. Well, housemates and colleagues—we work at the same company.”

“I see. Well, I’m sorry to hear you’ll be divorcing. It can’t be easy for your kid.”

“She’s a little spitfire,” he said, his mouth curling into a genuine smile. “Five, but ready to take on the world.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a button at the side of the cell, making the screensaver pop up. “This is her.”

I looked at the picture, feeling my own mouth tip up. She was cute as hell with her dimples and dark curls. “She looks like your mom.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes on the picture. “Her name’s Vienna. I named her after the sweetest, strongest girl I ever met.”

Maybe I should have felt touched or humbled. Instead, a cold anger fluttered through me. This fucker had dumped me, disappeared from my life, shit all over a friendship I’d cherished … and he’d named his kid after me? What in the everloving fuck had gone through his head?

“You don’t think it’s messed up—not to mention seriously unfair to her and to her mother—that you named your daughter after your ex-girlfriend?” I asked.

“Ex-fiancée,” he corrected. Rubbing at his brow, he sighed. “I guess I didn’t really see it that way. I just … Part of me wanted to honor you. A lot of people tried to put me down, told me I’d never get anywhere in life. You always supported and encouraged me, always told me to ignore those assholes. You’d say I could do and be whatever I wanted. You didn’t even yell at me when I broke off the engagement.”

I shrugged. “I figured it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if it was meant to be and I just forgot that for a while?”

He could not be serious. “Owen—”

“For me, you’re the one that got away, Vee. It sounds cliché, I know, but it’s true. Seeing you again … it just brought everything back. You still care for me. I know you do.”

“No, Owen, I really don’t.”

He smiled. “Yes, you do. And I still care for you. You can’t know how many times you popped into my head over the years. Hell, I even thought about you on my own damn wedding day.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have thrown away what we had. It was by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m so sorry I hurt you. It won’t happen again. If you give me another chance—”

“I’m seeing someone,” I blurted out.

He stilled, his eyes flickering. “Seeing someone?”

“Yes.” It might have been a fake relationship, but I was still spoken for. And if I didn’t state now that I was taken and he later heard I was dating Dane, it would seem weird to Owen that I didn’t mention it.

He blinked rapidly. “Well, it can’t be serious. You don’t live with him. You’re not with him on a Saturday evening.”

“I’m meeting him later, which is why you really need to go.” I pushed to my feet. “I have to get ready.”

He stood slowly, watching my face closely. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed just a little. “I don’t think that’s true. Call it a gut feeling.”

“Believe what you want,” I said, crossing to the door. I opened it wide. “It was nice to see you again, Owen. I wish you well, I do. But I need you to leave, and I’d rather you didn’t come back. The past is better off left where it belongs—far behind us.”

Seconds ticked by as he stared at me, saying nothing. Then, finally, he strode out of the apartment. “I’m not giving up, Vee,” he said just as I was about to close the door. “I fucked up once before. I know what I lost. I won’t lose it again.” Then he was gone.

Cursing under my breath, I shut the door, wishing I hadn’t answered it in the first place.

Was l moved by his declaration? No. Not in the slightest.

It wasn’t that I was an unforgiving person. I didn’t hold grudgesor refuse to accept apologies. But if a person ever sincerely screwed me over, it was like a mental wall slammed up between us. I didn’t purposely put it there. It just happened. It was a self-defense mechanism, I supposed. It had protected me from my foster sister’s hurtful words and actions for a long time.

A wall had popped up between Owen and me when he broke off the engagement, talking like I’d somehow conned him into proposing to me against his better judgement. He’d said he needed to concentrate on moving forward with his life, as if I would hold him back. And I’d known that what he really meant was that he wanted to put the early part of his life behind him, wanted to become someone new and make a fresh start.

I’d understood, so I hadn’t vilified him for it. But I’d hated that he’d made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be part of the future he’d mapped out for himself, that I wouldn’t fit with whatever new image he meant to create. Yeah, my defenses had slammed up in an instant. And I was glad of that, because it had numbed the pain and allowed me to move on from Owen faster than I otherwise might have done.

If he truly believed I still cared for him, he was dead wrong. I didn’t wish him ill, but I wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.

Determined to shove him out of my mind, I made my way to the bathroom. It was time to get ready for my fake date with my fake secret boyfriend.

Later on, I strolled out of my apartment complex and over to the sleek, fancy, black car that was parked at the curb. I smiled at the broad figure who opened the rear door for me. “Hi, Sam, how are you?” Nothing in my voice or expression gave away that I was still feeling twitchy with nerves.

“I’m well, Miss Stratton,” replied Dane’s driver. “And you?”

“Fine, thanks.” I slid onto the warm, butter-soft leather seat and looked at the lethally sensual male beside me who was focused on his phone—no doubt responding to a business email.

My breath caught at the delicious sight of him in a perfectly fitted, charcoal shirt and black slacks that would no doubt hug his epic butt just right. I saw him in tailored suits every day, always looking effortlessly well-groomed, smelling amazing, and generally oozing raw sex appeal. But it never got old—he could still make my pulse spike.

“Dane,” I greeted simply, going for blasé.

His piercing gaze snapped to me. If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I might not have noticed how he imperceptibly stiffened. His eyes raked over me, taking in everything from my loose, flowing hair to my strappy high heels; lingering a little on the thigh slit—it was a slow, blatant, thorough perusal. His gaze briefly glittered with something hot that made my skin prickle.

He nodded, as one would when appraising an object and then turned back to his phone. I almost snorted.

“So, where are we going?” I asked when Sam pulled onto the road.

His thumbs deftly flying over the screen of his cell, Dane named a prestigious, well-known restaurant. “Many people who I know and do business with frequent there. It’s a place where we’ll be recognized.”

I didn’t try to keep the conversation going—it was clear he was busy. The guy was always on the clock. I honestly didn’t know how being in such high demand all the time didn’t drive him insane.

Realizing that I was twirling my ankle madly enough to sprain it, I forced my leg to stay still. It wasn’t just nerves that were pricking at me and making me restless. I still hadn’t quite shaken off the annoyance I felt at Owen. He had no freaking right to turn up at my home and … No, I wasn’t going to think about him. I wasn’t going to fume about the things he’d had the nerve to say.

Turning to the window, I rested my loosely clasped hands on my lap and did my best to let all my edginess slip away. Yeah, it didn’t work.

“What’s bothering you?”

The question almost made me jump. I looked at Dane and shrugged. “Nothing.”

“You’re annoyed about something. What?”

“It’s not important.”

“But it’s bugging you enough that you look ready to punch someone.” He pocketed his phone and pressed a button that raised the privacy screen between us and the driver. “Tonight, I need you to be all about us. Your head can’t be elsewhere. So, tell me what’s wrong.”

I sighed. “I had a brief visit from Owen earlier.”

A slight hardness slid into Dane’s expression. “What did he want?”

“To talk.” Not wanting to go into any detail, I added vaguely, “He might be a problem.”

“He wants you back,” Dane guessed, his tone clipped. “I thought he was married.”

“He and his wife have filed for a divorce, apparently. I told him that I’m involved with someone. I didn’t say who,” I hurried to add.

“Did it deter him?”

“No, but he’ll back off eventually.”

“If it comes to it, I’ll deal with him.” Dane adjusted his cufflink. “Who ended the engagement? You or him?”

“Him,” I reluctantly admitted.

“Why?”

I inwardly groaned. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“It’s the sort of thing I’ll need to know if we’re to pull off our act. A woman would normally tell her new partner why she separated from her ex, right?”

True. “He wanted to start afresh and reinvent himself. That meant leaving behind anything or anyone that was part of the old him.”

“I see. Did you give him an earful?”

“No. I wished him well and then hung up.”

Dane’s brows snapped together. “He broke off the engagement by phone?”

I gave a curt nod. “I’m sure you can now understand why I really wasn’t delighted to see him at o-Verve.”

“Does he have a shot at winning you back?”

“Hell, no.”

Dane’s gaze pinned mine. “You need to be sure, Vienna. I can’t have you backing out on me in a few months, declaring you can’t go through with our plans because you’ve realized you still love him.”

“That would never happen for two reasons. One, I don’t love him. Two, I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch like that.”

“You’re in this until the end? I have your word on that?”

“Yes. And you know I won’t break it.”

Just then, the car began to slow. I looked out of the window and saw the restaurant in the near distance.

When the vehicle stopped, Dane said, “The moment we step out of the car, it’s—”

“Lights, camera, action?” I supplied.

“Yes. And we’ll stay in character right up until the end of the night. I trust Sam, but not even he can know this isn’t real. He doesn’t have your poker face. If anyone questioned him about us, they’d see right through his lies.”

“Understood.”

My door was pulled open. I smiled at Sam as I slid out of the car. He escorted me to the other side, where Dane waited. As I turned to face the restaurant, I didn’t miss Dane’s swift intake of breath behind me. My back was mostly bare, due to the tasteful V dip in the dress.

That didn’t stop him from splaying his hand on my lower back, resting his palm just above my butt. It was bold and proprietary and made my stomach all fluttery.

Casual and confident, he steered me into the restaurant. The pressure from his hand was light but very much firm and dominant as he, essentially, took control.

Inside, my brows lifted as I glanced around. This was no casual restaurant. There were no comfy booths, no wall-mounted TVs, no empty tables piled with dirty dishes, no waitresses in mini-skirts.

I also couldn’t see a single kid anywhere. There were lots of classily dressed ladies and well-groomed men. The wait staff here were as smartly dressed as the patrons.

Voices murmured. Silverware clinked. Classical music played softly in the background. With its expensive décor, hanging chandeliers, and crystal dishware, the place was both charming and elegant. The dim lighting and flickering candles also gave it a cozy, intimate atmosphere and softened its snobby edges.

It wasn’t the scents of various foods that dominated the air. It was perfume, cologne, fresh flowers, and burning candles.

My high heels click-clacked on the marble floor as we were led to a table near the large window. A prime spot for sure.

As Dane pulled out my chair for me, he lightly stroked my earlobe and said, “I like the earrings.”

I almost startled at the subtly flirtatious touch. He was smooth, I’d give him that. Remembering to play my part, I made sure my smile was just a little on the flirtatious side as I replied, “Thank you.” I sat on the padded seat, which he then smoothly slid toward the table.

No sooner had he settled on the seat opposite me than he ordered a bottle of red wine, probably remembering it was my drink of preference. He filed everything away in that incredibly perceptive brain.

The waiter handed us menus and then disappeared. Dane slightly adjusted the positioning of the small candles, the floral centerpiece, and the salt and pepper shakers. He wasn’t fidgeting. It was more like he was claiming the space and making it his own.

I scanned the menu, unsurprised that the selections were all gourmet dishes. I’d probably go with the prime rib. Honestly, this wasn’t really my scene. I preferred Italian food. Mostly pizza.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down before,” he said.

I lowered the menu. “It wouldn’t have been professional to turn up at the office looking like this.”

“Hmm.” His eyes slowly skimmed the length of my hair from the roots to the curled ends. It felt like he’d stroked it.

“I didn’t expect you to bring me here,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I’m usually the one booking dinner reservations for you and your lady friends. This isn’t where you take them.”

“Which is why I brought you here. If this was truly a serious date, I’d take you somewhere different than I took the others, so you’d know I don’t see you as a simple companion for the evening.”

I nodded. “Gotcha.”

The waiter appeared with our wine, took our food orders, and then left.

Dane picked up his glass. “Tell me about your family,” he said.

My stomach twisted. “My family?”

His brow hitched up. “Couples tend to tell each other about their families, yes?”

Ugh. I smoothed a wrinkle out of the white tablecloth. “There’s my dad, Simon—we’re pretty close. I also have my foster parents, Wyatt and Melinda. I see them often.”

“And your biological mother?”

I clenched my fists beneath the table. “I haven’t seen her since I was taken away by social services as a kid. As for siblings, I’m an only child. Plenty came and went over the years I was in foster care, but none stuck around long enough for me to form a real bond with them.”

“Your foster parents don’t have any biological children?”

“They have one. A daughter. Heather’s a few years older than me.”

“But you don’t think of her as a sister?”

After the things she’d done to me, fuck, no. “We’ve never really gotten along. But her son is a sweet kid.” Heather had purposely gotten pregnant by a rich guy and now lived off her child support payments—she actually considered that sneaky move an achievement, like getting a college degree.

Dane raised his glass to me. “Impressive, Vienna.”

“Excuse me?”

“You answered each of my questions without really giving me much information.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Just practicing being vague and evasive—I thought you’d appreciate it.” I sipped my wine. “I know you have two siblings but no nieces or nephews, and I know you lived with your uncle for a short while, but that’s pretty much it.”

Dane was silent for a long moment. “My mother died of cancer when I was young. My father died when I was fifteen. My uncle then took in me and my siblings, but he died of heart failure some years ago.”

I waited for him to expand, silently noting that he hadn’t specified how his father died. But he didn’t say another word. “Now who’s being vague and evasive?”

“There’s not much else to say.”

Not much else he wanted to say, I thought. But I let it go, because there was plenty of information that I’d kept to myself about my own family.

It wasn’t long before our food arrived. We talked as we ate. He didn’t touch me, but he really didn’t need to. Not when he was so wholly focused on me, like every sentence that came out of my mouth was a nugget of pure wisdom.

His gaze occasionally dropped to my lips as I talked, but then it would lock with mine again, alive with an electric intensity that almost took my breath away.

Sometimes his eyes would drift to my hair, as if fascinated by it. I could genuinely believe he wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke it.

Honestly, I was getting a little hot under the collar. I knew none of this was real. I knew his attraction to me was faked. But my body didn’t care about that. It was tipsy just from the intoxicating, sexual buzz in the air.

I found myself wondering … would a girl get a lazy, controlled seduction from Dane? Or would he allow himself to lose that control he clung to and then boldly take what he wanted? Both were questions for the ages.

Having finished my meal, I took a calming sip of my wine. I could feel the weight of many curious eyes. “I didn’t think people would pay us much notice. We’ve eaten together before.”

“At business lunches or dinners. Never alone.”

“You don’t date, so people might not automatically assume that that’s what this is.”

He gave me a look that questioned my intelligence. “They’re looking at you in that fuck-me dress and they know for sure it’s a date.”

I felt my brow crease. “This is not a fuck-me dress.”

He leaned forward. “No man who sees you in that is going to think about anything other than having you beneath him all night long. So yes, Vienna, it’s a fuck-me dress.”

I almost asked if hewas including himself in that, but I knew it wouldn’t be wise. It was important not to allow any lines to be blurred. “Whatever. If it helps us with our pretense, all the better.” Deciding to play up to our audience, I reached over and stroked my finger along his watch, grazing his wrist slightly. “What time is it?”

He drank the last of his wine. “Almost time to leave.”

He settled the bill, shooting me a glare when I offered to go halves with him on it. Like I was attempting to unman him or something.

I rose from the table and skirted around it. On his feet, he cupped my elbow and urged me to pass him. The featherlight graze of his lips over my temple made my pulse jump.

Again, he kept his hand on my lower back as he guided me across the large space. The feel of his warm fingers on my bare skin was a tease all by itself—my flesh was super-sensitive from the sexual buzz I couldn’t quite shake off.

Noticing a familiar figure exit the restrooms, I almost groaned. “Hope’s here,” I whispered to him.

Travis’s wife was beautiful. She had flawless skin, sleek black hair, a curvy figure, and a sweet face that was in total contrast to her personality. She was one of those people who’d never worked a day in their life yet looked down on anyone who didn’t have a job that earned them six figures a year.

She smiled at Dane. But that smile dimmed when she caught sight of me. To Hope, assistants of any kind were inferior. “What a surprise,” she said to Dane. “Travis has been trying to reach you for days. You didn’t return his calls.”

“I did,” he told her. “He just didn’t answer. I don’t have the time to chase him. Is he with you?”

“No, I’m here with friends. You know, it’s quite sad that you’d have a business dinner on a Saturday night. You never do anything but work. You should really try getting a life.”

“I like the one I have.”

Her eyes slid to me, and her lips thinned. “Hello, Vivienne.”

I almost rolled my eyes. She knew damn well what my name was.

“If you’re aiming to seduce my brother-in-law by dressing like that, it won’t work. He never mixes business with pleasure.”

“I appreciate the warning,” I said.

“We’re leaving now,” said Dane as he skimmed his fingertips down my inner arm and then smoothly took my hand in his. “Enjoy your meal, Hope.” With that, he gently pulled me toward the door. I could feel her watching us, and I knew she was probably getting a good look at us holding hands, but I didn’t turn around.

Reaching the exit, Dane pushed open the glass door and guided me to the waiting car outside. I could only assume he’d texted Sam to pick us up.

Inside the car, I waited for Dane to put the privacy screen up before I asked, “Do you think Hope suspects we were on a date?”

“Yes. She’ll no doubt call Travis and tell him all about it. He’ll probably wave it off, too sure that his world is in order and that I’d never fall for a woman. It won’t be until he hears about our second date that he’ll sit up and take notice.”

“When are we having our second date?”

“Next Saturday.”

“Same time, same place?”

“Same time, different place. One where other people who I know often eat.”

In other words, another pretentious restaurant. “I’d better tell my foster parents about our ‘relationship’ before our second date. The more time they have to get used to it before I announce we’re engaged, the better chance of them buying it. I can’t spring an engagement on them.”

He nodded. “You’ll also have to formally introduce me to them at some point. It might help if they see us together, looking happy and stable.”

“I hate that I’ll be lying to them. Won’t you hate that you’ll be lying to people?”

“No.”

I blinked. “Just no?”

He shrugged.

“I know your relationship with Travis is strained, but I got the impression that you get along well with Kent.”

“I do.”

“But you’re fine with lying to him?”

“My personal life isn’t his business. Why I choose to get married isn’t his business.”

Since just thinking about the wedding had the potential to give me indigestion, I changed the subject. “I take it you don’t want me to dress as your PA on our second date either.”

A phone pinged. He fished his cell out of his pocket. “No, I don’t,” he replied, his eyes on the phone screen as his thumbs tapped it like crazy. “Wear another fuck-me dress.”

I sighed. “It’s not a fuck-me dress.”